


The True Queen

by Mercia12591



Series: Tales from the Ancestral Tudor Court [1]
Category: The Spanish Princess (TV)
Genre: Blatant historical fantasy, F/M, Headcanon, Inspired by History and STARZ The Spanish Princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercia12591/pseuds/Mercia12591
Summary: A Series of One-shots set in the RECLAIMING QUEEN CATHERINE Universe. This is pure historical fantasy and my own decades-long headcanon, I hope you read and enjoy it as such. I stan Catherine of Aragon, period. I don't mind any of the other wives, except for Anne Boleyn. When I tell you I despise her, believe me. I'm not kidding. If you think Anne B is fabulous, that's fine, you do you, but then don't read this story. Catherine of Aragon and Henry VIII will be the endgame in this series and in every single story I post in this fandom.PS. The Main novel that inspired these one-shots, RECLAIMING QUEEN CATHERINE - THE LOST HEIRS will return in December 2020 and is being reworked.
Relationships: Catherine of Aragon/Henry VIII of England, Charlotte Castile/Ruairi Tewdr
Series: Tales from the Ancestral Tudor Court [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2007481
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**The True Queen**

****

**Summary:** **As he lies dying Henry VIII considers the identity of his true queen…**

**Hampton Court London - 1547**

**T** **he** pain was severe, unlike anything Henry VIII had ever felt, making him long for death. He needed water; he was so thirsty but though he called for a servant no-one appeared. Henry called once more, but his voice was faint now, not the roaring bellow of recent years.

There was no answer to the dying king’s call, and he wondered whether it was because the man genuinely could not hear him, or if, perhaps the man had fallen asleep at the job. Either way, there was no water forthcoming and no way for Henry to help himself to it. He was simply too weak. 

Henry turned his head on the pillow and wept like he hadn’t done since his mother’s death so many years ago. So lost was he in his misery that he did not hear the soft footsteps entering his room and it was a while before he came to himself enough to detect the soft, sweet scent…of pomegranate.

He hadn’t smelt that sweet familiar scent in so, so long and as he felt the mattress dip slightly under the weight of someone sitting down, that scent enveloped him like a comfortable blanket. Confused Henry turned his head and sucked in a rattling breath at the sight which greeted him.

Kathryn of Aragon was sitting on the edge of his bed and holding out a silver goblet to him. “Hello, Harry,” her voice was as soft as her gaze.

Henry was dumbstruck, unable to speak. The very sight of her took his breath away. She was barefoot and wearing a simple blue dress. Her gorgeous red-gold hair was falling over her shoulders and back in resplendent waves, interspersed with pomegranate blossoms.

She moved closer and Henry found himself drowning in eyes as blue as a robin’s egg. In a daze, he felt her lifting his head into her lap as she offered him cool, refreshing water from the goblet. He drank it down greedily and wondered vaguely whether he was losing his mind before quickly realizing he didn’t care.

Her touch felt so real though, gentle and comforting like it always was. “Kate,” he finally managed in a hoarse whisper. “Are you really here?”

“I am, your Grace.” Her smile was like the sun breaking through the clouds and he reveled in its warmth. 

“Oh, how I’ve missed you, my Kate, my queen…”

“I’m not your Queen, Harry. I never was, remember?” Her tone and her smile did not falter, and it held no recriminations. Henry tried to speak, but her next words forestalled him. “I’m not your wife and I’m not queen, but I’ll always be your Grace’s loyal and humble servant. I do wholly pardon you, Henry.”

The king felt a lump in his throat as desperation clasped what was left of his heart like a tight fist. “I was wrong Kate,” he rasped. “I was so wrong…”

“We both made our mistakes,” she said, and he didn’t miss the melancholy in her voice, still thick with its Spanish accent. She smiled again and the light of that smile suffused his dark, gloomy chamber with a luminous radiance brighter than the sun. “The past is gone now Harry; it no longer matters.”

Laboriously the king reached up to cup her cheek. “We forgive each other then?” His voice held a pleading note and after all he’d done, he knew he didn’t dare hope, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking anyway, from throwing himself on mercy he in no way deserved.

But she was Grace itself as she nodded, her blue eyes suddenly luminous with unshed tears. “Yes, my King, all is forgiven…”

Henry could scarcely believe it. The hand which still lay on her cheek, pulled her head down with his last strength until finally, their lips met in the sweetest kiss he had ever known, she tasted pure and clean and sweet, so sweet. She tasted of everything he had lost and everything he never knew he needed. She tasted like the absolution he did not deserve…

The chamber door opened, and the royal physicians entered on the last of their daily rounds. Henry VIII awoke with a start. His eyes searched for Kathryn and not finding her anywhere, he felt a great sadness descend. The physicians were troubled as they heard the king call for ‘my Kate.’ He seemed inconsolable and queen Catherine Parr was sent for.

Catherine Parr rushed to the king’s rooms only to quickly realize that she was not the ‘queen’ he was asking for. Nevertheless, she held the broken, dying king as he cried for his ‘true queen.’

Some courtiers, when they heard of this, whispered that the king was asking for Jane Seymour, others, that he pined for Anne Boleyn. But there were those courtiers who knew the truth, those who had been around for Henry’s entire reign. They remembered the true queen. In truth there was only ever one Queen, there may have been six wives, but Kathryn of Aragon was Henry’s true and legitimate queen, no power on earth or in eternity could change that…


	2. A Queen Crowned in Faerie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry’s musings as he watches the coronation of the once and future queen…

**A Queen Crowned in Faerie**

**Summary:** **Henry’s musings as he watches the coronation of the once and future queen…**

**The Ancestral Realms – Westminster Palace’s Great Hall, 2015**

**“I** **t’s** funny how the wheel of fortune turns, isn’t it, Harry?” Jaquetta River’s voice was not unkind as she pulled her great-grandson from his thoughts, causing him to finally tear his gaze away from the vision of beauty that has captivated him this entire day, and he wasn’t the only one. The entire great hall of Westminster Palace in the Ancestral Realms was filled with dignitaries and royalty from the various courts which made up the Realms of the ancestors and all were entranced by Kathryn of Aragon’s beauty.

“I was a fool Lady Great grandmother.”

Jacquetta Rivers sighed. “Much as I appreciate you taking responsibility for your former very foolish actions, this was not all your fault, Harry. I always warned your grandmother that energy, once released, is hard to pull back. That curse, spoken in anger and desperation, your mother did not realize until it was too late that the curse had doubled back to hurt the ones she loved most. So strong was it, that it has taken the greater part of five centuries to break it.”

“The lack of male heirs was not Kathryn’s fault or mine.”

“No,” Jacquetta agreed. “Even if Kathryn had stayed married to Arthur, if he had lived to be an old man there would’ve been no male heirs, there would have been no children at all, in their case, since Arthur could not ‘perform’ shall, we say?”

Across the hall, bedecked with green boughs and sweet-smelling wildflowers and filled with the sound of music and revelry following the fabulous feast, Kathryn was accepting the congratulations of Elizabeth Woodville, Elizabeth of York, Henry VII, Margret Buafort, and Henry’s sisters, Margret and Mary Rose.

Henry smiled just a little at seeing his family doing their part. Still, he knew that the battle to come would not be easy. Knowing Kathryn as he did, she would fight and fight like hell once she realized what the Tudors were up to.

Across the vast hall, Thomas Wolsey now joined the small party, catching Henry’s gaze as he did so. Henry hid a smirk as he watched the man bow so low before the new High Queen of the Ancestral Realms, that he was almost prostrate before her.

Jacquetta was watching too and shared a cynical smile with her great-grandson. “Such a servile, ambitious little man.”

“Quite,” Henry agreed dryly, “but useful, Lady Great grandmother, very useful.”

“You’re not worried he could betray us?”

“He’s servile and ambitious, not stupid. Thomas Moore might prove a bigger hurdle. His loyalty to Kathryn is unparalleled and if he learned what we are planning too early, he might try to warn her out of principle.”

The man in question was now paying his own respects to the Queen, with Arthur Tudor slinking along behind him. Henry couldn’t quite keep the scowl off his face as his gaze landed on Arthur. His brother’s resplendent outfit of velvet, silk, and costly silver thread, could do nothing to hide his deathly pallor or the dark rings under his eyes. Kathryn thanked Moore for his favor while bestowing a smile on his brother along with a quick, chaste peck on his cheek.

Henry felt a sting of jealousy, but it soon passed as he realized the look in Kathryn’s eyes was not love, but pity and the chaste kiss she had bestowed on him spoke of kind affection but held not a whisper of passion. _Poor Arthur,_ Henry thought to himself, _the rose petal is hanging onto his place in the Ancestral Realm by the very skin of his teeth. No wonder you want to attach yourself to Kathryn like some energy vampire. But she is not yours, dear brother, she was never yours …and she never will be._

Princess Elizabeth’s squeal of delight pulled Henry from his reverie and he heard his daughter with the appearance of a fifteen-year-old, excitedly tell Jaquetta Rivers of the ‘delightfully sumptuous’ quarters she was to inhabit at Greenwich Palace, the official seat of the new High Queen’s Court. Princess Mary, who still had the appearance of a three-year-old would enter Greenwich’s newly refurbished nursery, along with her half-brothers, Edward and Henry Fitzroy who also still appeared as their toddler selves. Jane Seymour, Bessie Blount, Anne of Cleves, Catherine Parr, and Katherine Howard had all joined the Queen’s Household, along with Lina, Rosa, Margret Pole, and her daughter Ursula. Kathryn had already appointed Reginald Pole as her Lord Chancellor and Oviedo her Captain of the Guard.

It was strange to behold such a household, knowing the history, but somehow it worked. The wounds of the past were finally beginning to heal, but they had a long way to go still. With that in mind, Henry gave his great-grandmother a nod and swept little Mary up in his arms, relishing his daughter’s cry of delight as he did so.

“My precious Pearl,” Henry whispered as he pressed a kiss to the child’s temple. “I think we should congratulate your mommy, don’t you?”

The gorgeous little girl nodded, beaming at her father as he carried her off towards the woman of the hour.

And so as the remains of the great feast were doled out to the joyful, cheering crowd outside, Jaquetta watched Henry and Kathryn with their little girl, laughing and happy, no rift between them, though the Lady Rivers knew a true and lasting union was a long way off still. It would come, the outcome was set in stone and no power in any realm could stop what had already been set in motion…


End file.
